Ficlets of Perception
by Jelfia Maleak
Summary: These are all short  very short  stories from the eyes of other in the camp. The 2nd story is also a bit on the humor side.
1. Time?

time... Time?

My time has been short, only a year. But it feels like twenty. Looking at the barbed wire, I can see the same stuff we used to keep the cows from escaping. The wire does not bother me as much as it does the other prisoner, neither does waking up before dawn. What gets me, is not being able to see the sky. There are so many trees. It just isn't . . . natural.

I look down at the sketch I was working on. It was is a sketch of a bridge. Based on the description that the first string described.

Yes, the next one that Col. Hogan and his first string where going to blow up. I just put the finishing touches on picture, and took it in for the Col's approval. After he looked it over, asking me to clarify some of the points. He nodded and headed towards his office "Good job Sergeant, this will help Carter a lot." He then turned and looked at me, "Also could you get your people to check the shoring and the beams again?" Col. Hogan waited for my answer.

"The air raid last night? Yes sir, we will get right on it," I said as a slight smile crossed my lips. I quickly left to round up my people and get them to checking the tunnels. I was not the oldest, highest ranking, nor the most experienced, but I was in charge of the crew that designed the tunnels. We also check to make sure they were structurally sound as well.

I watched as Carter told me how blowing up the bridge went. We then talked about home. A subject we talk about a lot. We were both farm boys. Everyone thinks we are both naive, but we are not. We just think about other things besides girls. Carter has explosives and I have my architecture. The others just don't understand. I think the Col does...some, maybe that is why I am in charge of the tunnel crew.

I hope that we never have to fight another war.

......................................................................................................................

well that was my first attempt at telling of Col. and his crew from a different perspective.

Serval more on the way.

Ta-ta for now.

Jelf


	2. Dodge Boot

The tall man was hauled out of the truck his arms handcuffed in front of him. The two German guards prodding him along. The three stopped before the steps.

Col. Klink stood on the top step looking down at his new prisoner.

"For you the war is now over." Klink said haughty.

"Just remember name, rank and serial." Col Hogan came up.

"Hogan." Klink said.

"What I'm just trying to be helpful." Hogan shrugged. Klink 'humrmed' and turn back to the pow.

He was tall, built like a...well a line backer. He stood 6' 5", but hunched over some as if trying to blend in. His face would have been hansom, if for not being sightly too worn by the elements. His white sailor top and slack where in good condition for just going threw prisoner 'interview'.

Klink turned to the lieutenant that brought him in. "This a Luffewafer camp, why are you bring me a sailor?"

The lieutenant hand him the file. "Hile Hitler."the lieutenant saluted, "They don't tell me why, just to deliver." he then turned and left the two guards followed.

Only then with the sergeant standing there slightly shivering in the cool fall air did Klink notice the sailor was missing something

"Why do not have any boots?" Klink said.

"Well," the sailor said in a slight mid west draw, "When them Germans where fishing me out of the water, I had no gun so I threw my boots at them Germans. Like my ma use to do to us kids when we where bad." Klink stood there slightly dumfounded. "Gosh you what to know was the worst? Them Germans weren't even nice enough to bring them there boots back to me, like we had to bring then back to ma."

"Shultz take this man to solitaire." Klink yelled in anger then huffed of.

Hogan stopped Shultz, "no monkey business." Shultz said shaking his head.

"No Shultz just want to find out what size this man is so I can get him another pair of boots." Hogan said, grinning slightly at the man, "Provide he dose not toss them at our Germans."

"No sir. Size eleven sir," then Shultz started to led the man away, "It make an interesting game though. Five points for every German hit? Highest score wins? Or dodge boot?"

"Jolly joker." Shultz remarked leading the man off.

well here is my next installment of ficlets. From the eyes of another.

I'm dedicating this to my grandparents. My grandfather was a SeaBees in the pacific, building airports on the islands. I'm working on trying to incorporate some of what he has told me of his time during the war. But it's hard, how do you work in an airplane crashing in to your tent in the middle of the night, and the only reason you not dead is cause you had to pee? or a finicky bulldozer that deiced to go for a swim in the ocean?

The shoe throwing bit was based on the stories my grandmother would tell about my father and his siblings.

I'll have more soon

Jelf


End file.
